“I got a call from one of my sources,” she said. “I have some information.” She dragged up a chair and sat down. “It was another jogger who found McNair on the path. He said when he parked his car he saw a guy walking up the road. He was wearing a synthetic black winter coat and bill cap that matched, jeans, and work boots. He had graying dark hair, from what he could see. He noticed him because he didn’t look like either a jogger or hiker. Does that sound familiar?”
“That’s the description of the guy Jere Bowden saw at Joana Cipriano’s apartment,” said Diane.
“That’s what they are thinking at Homicide,” said Neva.
“So the murders are tied together somehow,” said Diane. “How? We haven’t found any evidence that Joana was involved in anything criminal.” For that matter, she thought, they didn’t really know if McNair was involved in anything illegal.
“I suppose it could be a coincidence,” said Neva. “I mean, after all, it’s not like those are unusual clothes. You could go around the city and find a half dozen men dressed like that this time of year.”
“I supposed they asked Joana’s ex-husband if she knew McNair?” said Diane.
“They did, and he said he’d never heard of him. Neither had her mother or her friends,” said Neva.
“Did the witness have any other information?” asked Diane.
“Just that he thought the hat was new or the guy was a dork.”
“Excuse me?” said Diane.
“The bill on his cap was straight, not curved. You know, you have to train your cap bill to have that curve in it. Most new hats don’t have it. It’s dorky to not train your cap bill.”
“Of course.” Diane had rolled up many a baseball cap bill and stuck it in a glass to get that curve in it. “If he saw the bill of the cap, did he see a face?”
“Partial face. The guy’s collar was pulled up and he had his head turtled down and his hands in his pocket as though he was cold.”
“Thanks, Neva. That’s a good lead. Thank your informant for me.”
“Sure. The police are kind of funny on this one,” said Neva. “Normally, a member of the fire department like McNair would be held in the same regard as a member of the police department. They would pull out all the stops to find his killer. But McNair was considered lower than Internal Affairs because of the way he’s gotten so many good cops in trouble.” She shook her head. “He was a nasty fellow and he’s sure caused a lot of problems. Garnett has to report directly to the mayor every day. They said he’s pulling his hair out trying to deal with all of this-and he has a nice full head of hair.”
“I can imagine. When Garnett gets the report on trace from both the crime scenes, get me a copy. I’m particularly interested in the fiber evidence from all the crime scenes.”
“Sure. You really think you can get Garnett to put in a DNA lab?” asked Neva.
“I don’t know. The museum might do it if the numbers line up the right way.”
“Jin’s really excited. Boy, you know how to reward people for accomplishment-shopping in Paris, DNA lab.”
Diane laughed. “I suppose I do.”
“OK, Diane,” Frank said after washing down a bite of pizza with a swallow of beer, “tell me about your day.” His blue green eyes glittered with amusement. “Why do you think you will need an alibi?”
Diane related the entire mess as they sat at her dining table eating pepperoni, mushroom, and sausage pizza. She started with Blake Stanton trying to hijack her car and ended with McNair taking the evidence.
“Now both Blake Stanton and Marcus McNair are murdered. A city councilman would like me to be the killer, for some reason I can’t fathom.”
When she finished, Frank was no longer smiling; his eyes didn’t have that wrinkle in the corners they got when he was amused.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the attempted carjacking?” he asked.
“It paled in comparison to finding Star,” said Diane. She cleared off her oak dining table and threw the pizza box in the trash. She put the other pizza he brought in the refrigerator. Frank always brought more food than they could possibly eat. A consequence, he said of coming from a family with two older brothers and an older sister.
“You are also important to me,” he said when she returned to the table with coffee.
“I know, but it was over, and there would be plenty of opportunities to tell you.”
“It must have been terrifying, facing a crazed kid with a bloody stump and a gun.”
“Scary perhaps. He looked mainly pathetic, except for the gun. But what I really need is to find out who killed him and who killed McNair-and Joana Cipriano. You know, everything we’ve found out about her doesn’t point to a person involved in criminal activity. Actually, I don’t know that McNair was involved in anything criminal. It’s just that I wouldn’t put it past him.”
They moved to her living room. She turned on some music-jazz violin played by Stephan Grappelli-opened up her drapes so they could watch the falling snow, and snuggled up with Frank on her large burgundy and gray striped sofa. She had liked the colors when she got it, but now she wasn’t sure.
“Why don’t you leave it to Garnett and his detectives?” asked Frank, kissing her temple.
“Because they aren’t being accused of murder-twice,” countered Diane.
“Neither are you, really. Just by some crazy woman and a councilman of questionable motives. I know Adler. He’s not aboveboard himself.”
Diane turned her head to face him. “You think he could be involved in something illegal with his nephew?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. But he’s smart enough to make sure nothing leads to him.”
“Would he have his own nephew killed?” asked Diane.
“That I don’t know. Some days I’d say yes. But hiring a hit is dicey. More often than not, it backfires.”
Diane put her hands to her temples. “I’ve got book titles swimming in my head, and I’m not even sure that Joana’s death had anything to do with books. I’m just at a loss. I’ve been locked out of the information on McNair’s crime scene. I need more data.”
“Now, tell me again why you are not leaving this to the detective in charge of the case?”
“Because I have this crazy woman calling me every time I turn around telling me she is going to stalk me the rest of my natural life, and calling my board members and God knows who else and accusing me of murder.”
Frank kissed her lips, then moved his mouth just a hairsbreadth away from hers. “Are you sure you want to talk about crime right now?”
“What crime?” she whispered.
It had been four days since Frank talked her out of investigating the murders and into simply handling the trace evidence from the crimes they themselves processed. She had to agree that this was far more relaxing. However, Jin, David, and Neva were still on the case. Jin was determined to get his DNA lab.
McNair’s murder had an unexpected effect. Patrice Stanton stopped harassing her by phone. Apparently, she actually thought Diane had killed two people already and she didn’t want to be next. Well, thought Diane, whatever works.
Today, Kendel sat in front of Diane’s desk with several sheets of paper in her hand and a large box under her arm.
“We have a researcher who says he is going to petition the Egyptian government to ask for the return of our mummy if we don’t allow him access,” said Kendel.
Diane sighed. “That’s a new tact.”
“I’ll write a letter to the legal affairs department of his university,” Kendel said. “Maybe they have some influence on him.”
Diane nodded.
“I’ll also see if he’s tried this with other institutions.”
“Do that,” said Diane.